Defining Moments
by Collegekid2006
Summary: A series of moments in the lives of our favorite characters...when they begin to become who they'll be...forever
1. Chapter 1

"I didn't see him," Henry whispered into his coffee.

No one heard him.

Around him, the station was buzzing with frantic activity. Phones were ringing off the hook, and at the center of it all was the Chief, directing traffic.

"Douglas! Get the press out of here! Vick! Get down to the scene and light a fire under the investigation! NOW!"

"Yes, sir!" Karen called, immediately taking off for the door.

She saw Henry, sitting alone. Pale. Staring blankly into his coffee.

She glanced back to make sure the Chief wasn't watching, then sat down next to him.

"Hi, Henry."

"Hi," he barely mumbled, not even looking up at her.

"How are you holding up?"

He didn't respond.

"It wasn't your fault."

Finally, his eyes met hers.

"Yes. It was. I didn't see him."

"Of course you didn't. He jumped you both from behind and got off a lucky shot. One lucky shot."

"That's all it takes. Jim…"

"He'll pull through. The paramedics said the bullet missed all the vital organs."

"I should have seen him."

"Henry…"

Henry shook his head and drained the rest of the coffee. Finally, he stood up.

"I should've seen him, Karen. I should've seen him."


	2. Chapter 2

_From the pilot:_

_Shawn: I was 18..._

_Lassiter: Oh, then that makes it okay!_

_Shawn: I borrowed a car...there were extinguating circumstances...the arresting officer was my father...he was trying to teach me a lesson._

_Lassiter: Did you learn it?_

_Shawn: I learned I hated my father._

Shawn's leg wouldn't stop twitching.

He'd been sitting in the interrogation room forever. At least a half hour; an eternity in eighteen-year-old-boy time.

It might as well have been a million years.

Finally, the officer returned.

"So…Mr. Spencer," he asked gruffly, flipping through files and taking a seat at the end of the table.

"Do you make a habit of stealing cars?"

"Dad, come on. Drop the cop act. And are the cuffs really necessary? I'm your son."

Shawn held up his wrists, which were firmly cuffed.

"My son?" Henry arched his eyebrows. "No. No, you see _my_ son is at his best friend's house tonight. At least, that's what _my_ son told me. And _my_ son wouldn't lie to me. I taught him better than that. I also taught him not to steal cars."

"Come on, Dad. What did you want me to do? Just not go to the dance?"

"I don't recall the California penal code having 'I wanted to make-out in the school parking lot' as a valid legal defense for Grand Theft Auto, Shawn."

"Grand Theft Auto?" Shawn repeated in disbelief, anger slowly beginning to boil just below the surface.

"Are you kidding me? I borrowed your car! I'm on the insurance!"

"Tell that to the officer who filled out the stolen vehicle report."

"That was you."

"Oh. Tough break. I'm told I'm a real hard-ass when it comes to teenage punks joyriding around town."

"Are you really doing this?" Shawn demanded, standing up, his ears red. "Are you really pushing this?"

"Your arraignment is on Monday."

"Fine. Then I want a lawyer."

"You'll get one. Monday morning."

"What do I do until then?"

"What do you think?"

"Post bail and go home?"

Henry shook his head slowly, enjoying the moment too much, which just pissed Shawn off even more.

"Sorry, kid. You can't post bail on a Friday night. Not this late. You'll have to spend the night in lock-up."

"Lock-up!"

Shawn kicked his chair across the room and glowered at his father.

Henry was completely unmoved.

He knocked gently on the two-way glass. A uniformed officer entered the room.

"I'll see you Monday, Shawn."

As the officer led Shawn out of the room, Shawn met his father's eyes steadily. He felt something he had never really felt before.

Not like this.

"I hate you." He growled.

And at that moment, he meant it.


	3. Chapter 3

"Forget it, Shawn!"

"Gus! Come on! It'll be fun!"

"I don't know…"

Shawn was standing on his tip-toes on a kitchen chair, straining to simultaneously reach the keys on top of the refrigerator and convince Gus this was a good idea.

"I've seen my dad do it a thousand times!"

"That doesn't mean you can!"

"Sure it does!...okay, got 'em!"

He dangled the keys from his fingers, letting them sway temptingly back and forth in front of Gus' eyes.

"Well…"

"Think how cool we'll be!" Shawn continued, jumping down from the chair. "We'll be the only thirteen year-olds who can drive! We'll get so many dates!"

"Okay," Gus agreed finally.

They ran out the back door and dashed across the backyard to Henry's truck, making sure no one saw them.

"Shotgun!" Gus called, sliding into the seat.

"Driver!"

Shawn put the keys in the ignition and studied the dashboard in front of him, scrunching up his face thoughtfully.

"Hmmm…it's like a cockpit…"

"Shawn," Gus asked, suddenly nervous. "You do know what you're doing right?"

"Of course! Don't be ridiculous. You move this little knobby thing to one of these letters…"

"Okay. Which letter?"

"Umm…"

Shawn stared at the gearshift, trying desperately to remember.

"Oh! I know! R! R for really fast!" He declared, quickly shifting into gear.

He inhaled slowly.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

He pushed the gas, all the way to the floor.

The truck shot backwards across the yard.

"SHAWN! Stop it! You're gonna get us killed!" Gus screamed.

"I can't!" Shawn screamed back, just as they came to a screeching halt.

"See," Shawn sighed. "The tree stopped us."

"Oh man!" Gus moaned, jumping out. "We're dead!"

The back of the truck was firmly lodged in the tree trunk, dented and smashed beyond repair.

"Oh, man!"

"And that's why I'm getting a motorcycle," Shawn declared, taking it all in stride. "No little knobby things."

"What are we going to tell your Dad?"

"I'm thinking carjackers…"

"Shawn."

"Fine. I'll keep your name out of it."

"You know that's right."

"But," Shawn added, grinning. "You gotta admit that was cool."

"Yeah," Gus agreed. "It was cool."

Suddenly, Shawn slammed his fist into Gus' hand.

"Hey!" Gus yelped, pulling his hand back. "What was that?"

"I call it The Bump."


	4. Chapter 4

Baby Carlton was a happy baby.

He was always laughing.

He never fussed or cried for no reason.

He got along well with all the other babies.

That is, until Baby Tommy came to daycare.

No one ever really knew why, but Baby Carlton and Baby Tommy never got along.

Maybe it was because on his first day at daycare, Baby Tommy's cookie was bigger and had thirteen more sprinkles on it.

Maybe it was because Baby Carlton wouldn't share the blocks.

Whatever the reason, the two were locked in mortal combat from the very first time they met.

The last straw, however, came one rainy Friday afternoon. It was too wet for the children to go outside, so they were all in the playroom.

Baby Carlton was sitting by himself, happily playing with the alphabet blocks. He was so engrossed in them that he didn't even hear Baby Tommy coming up behind him….

brandishing the little wooden toy hammer over his head.

He brought it down directly on top of Baby Carlton's poor little pumpkin head.

Now, even as an infant, Carlton Lassiter was no baby. He didn't scream or cry as Baby Tommy used his skull to practice _Wipeout. _He just plucked the pacifier resolutely out of his mouth, turned around, and popped Baby Tommy in the nose.

Hard.

Baby Tommy, as it turned out, _was_ a baby. He burst into loud, frantic tears, and all the daycare workers immediately came running.

"Carlton Lassiter! Bad boy!" Nancy scolded, picking him up and plopping him down in the playpen.

Solitary confinement.

They huddled around Baby Tommy, cooing and snuggling him. Giving him cookies to get him to stop crying.

He looked over at Baby Carlton.

And _smiled_, the smug little bastard.

Carlton's forehead wrinkled. His eyes narrowed angrily.

And that's the way they stayed for….ever.


	5. Chapter 5

"Damn it, Mel. I'm not going to fight about it!"

"I hate to tell you this." Mel returned shortly, pushing back from the table. "But you _are_ fighting about it."

Henry glared at her as she crossed the room, for once in his life too furious to even speak.

Suddenly, there was a crash from the living room.

"Shawn…." Henry muttered, rolling his eyes as he went to investigate.

Mel was right behind him.

"Shawn!" He snapped the moment he stepped foot in the living room. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"Nothing." Shawn replied too quickly, kicking something under the couch and grinning innocently up at his parents, who were both glaring at him now instead of at each other.

Henry's eyes quickly swept the room, looking for anything that was out of place.

"Don't give me that!" Henry growled, spotting an empty place on the mantle where a picture frame should have been.

He stalked over to the couch and reached under, pulling out the missing frame.

The glass had a large crack across it.

"What happened, Shawn?" Mel demanded, examining the broken frame over Henry's shoulders. "That was my favorite picture frame!"

"It fell off the mantle." Shawn admitted, looking down at his feet.

"Things don't just fall, Shawn." Henry informed him. "They get knocked over."

He handed Mel the frame and leaned over the fireplace, reaching in and grabbing a baseball out of the ashes.

"They get knocked over by things like flying baseballs." He added, tossing the ball up and catching again.

"Oh."

Shawn cleared his throat, but didn't bother denying it anymore.

There was no point.

"Go to your room, Kid." Henry sighed when Shawn didn't say anything else, pocketing the wayward ball.

"Okay…"

Shawn slowly made his way up the stairs. As he shut the door to his room, he could hear his parents downstairs talking.

"I can fix it." Henry was saying. "I have some glass around somewhere…it shouldn't be too hard to cut a piece to fit…"

Shawn grinned to himself and flopped onto the bed, resting his arms behind his head.

It worked.

It always worked.

If he could just get his parents to pay attention to him, they always stopped fighting…at least for a little while.

_If I can just get them to pay attention to me all the time, maybe they'll stop yelling at each other…_

_Even if that means they're yelling at me…_


	6. Chapter 6

_From Cloudy…with a Chance of Murder_

_Shawn: You hate that bike! You've always hated that bike! And you've been especially hard-assed about it since I—_

_Henry: Since you what, Shawn? Since you had your accident? Is that it? Is that where you're Old Man crossed the line? Ok, fine. I'll tell you what. I'm going to lay off…I'll tell you what you do. You take me off your call list the next time the ambulance picks you up and brings you in that door. Alright? Fair._

_Note- This can't be in reference to the accident in Spellingg Bee, as Henry wasn't called for that one and Shawn never told him what happened. Even if he figured it out, he didn't see Shawn in the hospital and he was not called. Hence, this is referring to a previous accident._

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Henry grunted, rolling over and looking at the clock through blurry eyes.

4:14.

_Who the hell--?_

"Mr. Spencer? Mr. Henry Spencer?"

It was an unfamiliar voice.

Male.

Sympathetic.

Definitely a doctor.

"Yeah," Henry sat up, suddenly in Cop Mode.

"Yeah. This is Henry Spencer. Who's this?"

"My name is Dr. Hirsch. I'm a trauma surgeon at Santa Barbara Community Hospital. I'm calling about your son, Shawn. There's been an accident…"

"An accident?"

Henry didn't hear another word.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. He didn't remember a moment of it.

_If he's alive, I'm going to kill him!_

The thought kept thundering in his brain.

_I'll kill him._

_I'll kill him._

_If he's alive…I'll kill him._

_If he's alive…_

How had this happened? He had just fought with Shawn yesterday, and now he was doubting whether he would live to see tomorrow? How did everything change so damn fast?

Henry didn't realize it until he walked into the hospital and saw Shawn, awake but dazed and in pain. As he exhaled, relief flooding his body, it struck him.

_I haven't breathed._

_This is the first time I've breathed since the phone call._

_The phone call stopped my life._

_My life stopped._

_Nothing else mattered…not until I knew Shawn was okay…_

_Shawn was all that mattered._

Henry stared in wonder at his badly battered and broken, but very much alive, son, who was still unaware of his presence.

_Shawn is all that matters._

Henry approached the bed quietly. Shawn glanced up, seeing him for the first time.

"Hi, Dad," he said weakly, attempting a smile. He couldn't wave, as his arms were both in heavy casts, along with his right leg up to the thigh.

Henry hesitated before answering, searching his brain for something to say.

_Tell him._

_Just tell him._

He cleared his throat.

"What the hell were you thinking? I told you this would happen! I hate that damn bike!"


End file.
